


A Family Affair

by traitorhero



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Secrets, Gen, Meet the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:17:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traitorhero/pseuds/traitorhero





	A Family Affair

 

Haytham hated boats. Having been informed by his son that it would be another day before they could leave, he had asked what he should do in that time. Connor had shrugged and wandered off.   
  
Haytham followed him, of course. New York was an interesting sort of place, one that the Order was keen on preserving. However, the leaders that they had sent to watch over the main districts had fallen silent in the past few months. Which almost directly corresponded to the time frame in which his son had arrived. If he could track his son back to some hideout, some place that the Assassin’s had commandeered to use, he could alert some allies in the city. Destroying an Assassin’s den would hurt the relationship he had hoped to foster with his son, but it was obvious that their ideals were too different to work together, much as he hated to admit it.   
  
He thought Connor might have spotted him when they passed through a marketplace. His son had paused at a stand, purchasing a selection of fruits and vegetables. But he had not, apparently, and continued on his way. Soon they arrived at a small farmhouse near the outskirts of the city. Haytham watched from across the way as Connor walked up to the door and knocked.   
  
The woman who answered looked to be a few years older than him. As soon as she had recognized him, however, she had thrown her arms around him, and buried her head in his chest. A few of the people standing around him noticed the sight, the women letting out contented sighs.  
  
“Guess he surprised her,” one of the men said. “Must have been off at sea for what, five months?” he asked his compatriot.  
  
“Something like that,” his friend replied. “Nice to see them together again. She missed him something terrible, or at least that’s what the wife heard.”  
  
Haytham excused himself from the group when Connor entered the house. The things in front of him added up, but not to what he had expected. He went to the front gate, but stopped before he could pass it. Turning around, he came face to face with his son.  
  
“Connor,” he said, “how nice to see you.”  
  
“Father,” Connor acknowledged. “Why are you here?”  
  
“I was simply passing through the area-,” Haytham began.  
  
“Do not lie to me,” Connor interrupted. “Why have you come here?”  
  
“I followed you,” Haytham admitted. “And the fact that you did not realize it means that your training must have been truly terrible.”  
  
“I was aware of your presence,” Connor told him. Some amount of surprise must have shown on his face, for Connor’s lips turned up slightly. “You weren’t as subtle as you would care to think.”  
  
“Apparently,” Haytham said.   
  
“And Dobby saw you across the street.”  
  
If Haytham weren’t already sure of it, he would have thought Connor was mocking him.  
  
“Is that her name?” Haytham asked. When Connor did not answer, he shrugged and walked past.  
  
“Papa!” a little boy shouted, running out of the house. Haytham turned sharply in time to see a young child run into Connor’s arms. Connor looked over the boy’s shoulder, his eyes meeting Haytham’s. With a small amount of shock, he realized that the damnable hood that his son always wore was down.   
  
“Who’s that, Papa?” the boy asked as Connor sat him back on his feet.   
  
“My name is Haytham Kenway,” Haytham introduced himself. He moved to kneel in front of the boy, surprised when Connor did not stop him. “What is your name?”  
  
“Clement Dayanand Kenway,” the boy said. He thought for a moment before speaking again. “We have the same name.”  
  
“Yes, we do,” Haytham said, ruffling the boy’s hair. He stood and looked to Connor, who turned his head slightly in reply. “I am your grandfather.”  
  
“Connor!” Dobby, Connor’s wife (a fact that still confused Haytham if he was being honest), called from the doorway. “Dinner is almost ready.”  
  
“Will grandpa coming to dinner?” Clement asked.  
  
“Am I invited?” Haytham asked Connor. The boy looked up at his father, and Connor sighed.  
  
“Go tell your mother to set another place at the table,” he told Clement. The boy dashed back to the house, leaving the two grown men alone.  
  
Haytham looked at his son, then back to the house. “You’re married?” he asked, his eyebrow rising of its own accord. Connor nodded, judging his father’s expression. “You have a son?”  
  
“Yes,” Connor said.   
  
“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Haytham said. “If I had known, I would have sent a gift.”  
  
“You were not supposed to know,” Connor replied. “I would not place them in danger.”  
  
“Danger?” Haytham scoffed.   
  
“If any were to know of them, they could be harmed,” Connor said. “Dobby could stand against them, but I won’t let my son live without his mother.”  
  
“I would never order harm to a mother or child,” Haytham said, his voice low.   
  
“Can you say the same of your allies?” Connor asked. “You may be an honorable man, but those you trust would not share in your altruism.”  
  
“I have no desire to argue with you when your wife has supper on the table,” Haytham said, waving his hand in the air. “Shall we go in?”  
  
Connor shrugged, and walked up to the front of the house. Haytham looked behind himself, trying to pick out the ones who had given him away. He saw no one, but if they had managed to identify him and get that knowledge to Connor without his knowledge, he doubted that they would give themselves away with his cursory sweep.  
  
Haytham took off his hat when he entered the house. Connor took it from his hands and hung it on a stand, and motioned him to take his cloak off as well. When he didn’t, Connor mimed it, taking off his overcoat. Haytham rolled his eyes and slung the coat off, hanging it next to Connor’s. His son gestured for him to move further into the house.  
  
It was brightly lit, a few lanterns hanging at random intervals. Clement was already sitting at the table. His grin looked like it would split his face when Haytham walked in. A nice turkey sat on the table, along with some of the vegetables Connor had bought in the market. It smelled rather nice, better than what he might have eaten at one of the taverns.  
  
“This smells delicious,” Haytham said as Dobby entered the room.   
  
“Thank you,” Dobby said, setting a loaf of bread on the table. “Please, have a seat. Connor, could you help me to get the pitchers?”  
  
Haytham knew that tone from when he had been a child. He smirked and took a seat next to Clement. The boy looked up at him shyly as his parents went into the next room.  
  
“Grandpa?” Clement asked. Haytham looked at his grandson. He could see a bit of himself in the boy, in his jawline and hair color.  
  
“Yes, Clement?” he replied.  
  
“You work with Papa?” the boy asked. Haytham sighed inwardly, unsure of how to answer without lying or pissing off his son.  
  
“We have similar interests,” he finally said. “We are working together currently. For how long, I know not.”  
  
The words were clearly over the boy’s head, as evidenced by his furrowed brow. Before he could ask another question, Connor and Dobby came back into the room, setting a pitcher of milk and glasses on the table. They did not say any sort of grace, and Haytham followed their example, serving himself. It was a quiet dinner, something that Haytham doubted was normal. Clement seemed to have been signaled by his mother to remain silent, and when the meal was done, he got up and went to the second story, most likely to his bedroom.  
  
Connor and Dobby remained sitting across from him. His son’s wife glared at him, her hand reaching towards a knife. Connor grabbed her hand, moving it below the table.  
  
“You have a lovely son,” Haytham said, trying to make conversation.  
  
“I like to think so,” Dobby replied coolly.  
  
“I apologize for not thinking to call ahead,” Haytham said. “I was not planning on intruding. I know that you have not seen your husband since he was at sea.”  
  
“I see my husband more often than people believe,” Dobby said.   
  
Connor sighed, but clued his father in. “Dobby follows the Creed, father.”  
  
“Oh,” Haytham said. “A pity.”  
  
Dobby glared at him, her hand going for the knife again. Connor again grabbed her hand, but this time intertwined their fingers.  
  
“He meant nothing by it,” Connor said. “He said much the same to me.”  
  
“I believe I called you naive,” Haytham corrected him. “But you continue to follow the words of old men, no matter how far they lead you astray. There is some honor in doing so. I rather wish that you had seen it another way. In any case, I believe I have overstayed my welcome.”  
  
They all rose, Connor following him to the coat stand. He put his cloak back on, adjusting it until it fell as he liked it. Connor handed him his hat, which Haytham took with a nod.  
  
“Is grandpa leaving?” Clement asked, poking his head around the corner.  
  
“I’m afraid so,” Haytham told the boy. “It was my great pleasure to meet you, Clement.”  
  
The boy nodded. Connor’s lips quirked up again. Haytham left the house, Connor again on his heels.  
  
“You have a beautiful family,” Haytham said, setting his hat on his head.  
  
“I am lucky to have them,” Connor replied.   
  
“No one else shall know of them,” Haytham promised him. “I can assure you of that much.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Foolish sentiment,” Haytham said.


End file.
